


Red

by LadyNimrodel



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, lipstick kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6729400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNimrodel/pseuds/LadyNimrodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He used to think, it’s a hell of a way to think about his best friend. Steve, with red lipstick smeared over his full lips, bright against his fair skin. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> uuuuh, whoops? I have no idea what happened here. I just wanted to break through a block I was having while writing the third part of my Iron Ghost series and this happened. I have a thing for people who wear red lipstick, obviously. Boy, girl, doesn't matter. I just really love the way it looks. So I got thinking, Steve has really pretty lips, how amazing would he look wearing red lipstick. And _then_ I thought, what if Bucky thinks the same thing? Yeah. That's what happened lol. Please enjoy!!!

The idea isn’t exactly a new one. He knows he’s had it before, the memory of wanting it smudged and dim in his mind but there. Like an old friend to be visited in the middle of the night with no small amount of shame and guilt attached. He used to think, it’s a hell of a way to think about his best friend. 

Steve, with red lipstick smeared over his full lips, bright against his fair skin. 

Bucky remembers having the fantasies. Remembers the heat curling slow in his belly when he thought about running a tube of lipstick along the bow of Steve’s bottom lip, remembers wondering what it would be like to see Steve dig his teeth into the red curve of it, remembers thinking about Steve’s red, red mouth stretched wide around Bucky’s cock, leaving behind smudges on the shaft. He remembers, with a spike of heat, wanting to kiss Steve stupid while Bucky spread his slim legs and pressed into his body. All the while the lipstick getting smeared obscenely between their lips. 

Back then, Bucky felt thinking about Steve like that was wrong. Wrong and reckless and foolish. It was so important to him then, that Steve never find out how much Bucky wanted him. Wanted to touch him and make him dirty and paint his lovely, lovely lips, prettier than any girl’s. 

Now the wanting is all balled up with everything else, needing to protect Steve, wanting to remember everything about him from before, thinking that the sun shines when Steve smiles. It’s all one giant massive thing stuck under his breath bone and often makes it hard to breathe. But where he’d once felt shame and fear, now he has much worse things to worry about. The world is a different place and he’s done so many things that being in love with his best friend seems so innocent in comparison. 

Their first kiss was soft and wet, their second hot and consuming until their lips were red and bitten and Steve was all he could taste when Bucky licked his teeth.

It’s been months since then, of spending every night in Steve’s bed, of appeasing the memories of desperation and aching for something he thought he could never have. In the beginning, Bucky thought the ability to love had been burned out of him. But every morning he watches Steve’s eyelashes flutter open when he wakes and runs his mismatched hands over Steve’s soft skin and kisses him to distraction while he is cooking because he can and he has been healed bit by bit. And he didn’t think there was anything left for him to want. 

Then he sees the ad while roaming behind Steve in the drugstore and it hits him like a ton of bricks. 

He doesn’t really recall why they are there anyway. All he cares about is one of the pictures in the makeup aisle. It’s near the front, over a whole display of small, colorful tubes, of a woman and a man both staring out at the viewer. The woman is leaning into the man, her arm around his shoulder and fingers under his chin, proudly displaying that he is wearing the same bright shade of red lipstick she is. It looks…

Bucky doesn’t even know. His brain has ground to a halt. It looks fucking good. Both models are sexy as hell, with full lips parted enough to catch the white gleam of teeth behind them. Inviting but sharp, like you might get bit just as soon as you might get kissed. 

But that isn’t why Bucky is frozen where he stands. 

It’s the memory of wanting that, wanting it so hard sometimes he wonders how he hid it that washes over him right there in the middle of the store. Wanting it on Steve, wanting to see the way the flesh of his bottom lip would give under the waxy pigment, how it would look smeared across his cheek, how it would make his already full lips seem pouty and perfect for biting. And with the return of this particular desire is the memory of stealing a girl’s tube of lipstick after pressing her against the bricks in an alley and sliding his fingers up her skirt. While she gasped out her pleasure, his fingers wet inside of her, he stared at the red on her mouth, wondering if it would look like that when Steve parted his lips in his own desire. And when she was done, turning away to put herself back together, he’d picked up her purse where she’d abandoned it on the ground at their feet and slipped out the metal tube of her lipstick. He was smiling and politely holding out her bag when she’d turned back around, the lipstick safely in his pocket. 

He’d gotten home late that night, heart in his throat, and dashed to the bathroom down the hall where he locked the door and fumbled the lipstick out of his pocket. The brightness of it under the single dingy light is still seared into his brain. Red like sin, rich and warm, it was lovely. Bucky had leaned against the sink and stared at himself in the smudged mirror for a moment, noting the hectic flush on his cheeks and the way his eyes looked a little wild. 

His prick was hard as a rock as he dragged the lipstick over his own lips. 

Not because of seeing it on himself but because as he did, he thought about what it would look like if he could do the same for Steve. The color looked obscene on him but he pictured it on Steve as he fumbled his cock free and stroked it hurriedly. It didn’t take him long at all and soon he was doubled over the cracked sink, clenching his teeth to stifle a truly shocking orgasm. 

Bucky hid the lipstick after that and he no longer recalls what he’d done with it. But the memory of how hard the thought of Steve wearing that particular color on his lips made him come isn’t going anywhere. 

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice makes Bucky jump and he comes back to himself with a blink and a frown. Steve’s eyes are worried, one of his big hands gentle between Bucky’s shoulder blades. No one is staring yet, which means he hasn’t been standing vacant for very long. 

“I’m alright,” he says, like he always does after he’s been in the clutches of a returned memory. And just like every time, the little furrowed lines of worry don’t leave Steve’s face at his reassurances, “Just…remembered something,” and his eyes dart back to the picture without his permission. Steve, naturally, follows his gaze and his face smooths out. 

“Ah, yeah, this kind of thing was a little shocking to me too,” Steve says, completely misunderstanding, “but I think it’s good, don’t you? One less damaging stigma and all that,” he gives Bucky a friendly little nudge then jerks his head towards the aisle of shampoo where he’d been heading, “Come on.” Bucky follows him in numb silence. He didn’t know what he expected but that calm acceptance wasn’t it. It makes his body tingle with possibility. 

They get what they came for (shampoo for Steve and a pack of giant Hersey bars for Bucky) and leave. But all the while Bucky thinks about the ad, the way the red lipstick looked on the man in the picture, and his pulse ticks hot under his skin. 

**

Bucky returns to the drugstore alone the next day when Steve is making his weekly visit to the VA with Sam and buys three different shades of red lipstick. The clerk barely bats an eyelash and he puts them in his pocket on his way out, excitement already starting to beat sharply in his chest. 

He doesn’t hide the lipstick tubes when he gets home. He just puts them on the counter in the bathroom and waits for Steve to come home. 

**

Things get a little hectic before either of them can even say anything about the three cylinders of lipstick sitting innocently by the sink. Steve gets a call while he’s still at the VA about a strange mist spreading over a small town in Kansas that is turning the townsfolk rabid, attacking anyone not affected. It is messy and dangerous and takes nearly three days for them to figure out how to get rid of the mist and cure the people affected. Bucky watches it all on the news, three days of sitting on the edge of the couch staring at the TV, hungry for any glimpse of Steve he can get. 

It all turns out okay in the end and Steve comes back in the middle of the night, drooping with exhaustion with a bruise still healing on his cheek and his blond hair dull with dust and grime. Bucky takes one look at him and leads him into the bathroom where he proceeds to strip Steve bare after turning on the taps for a bath. 

“Missed you, Buck,” Steve murmurs into Bucky’s shoulder as he steps slowly from his pants, using Bucky to keep himself standing. Overcome with affection, Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s temple, breathing in the scent of dirt and blood and Steve’s sweat. It’s a good smell, means Steve is alive and well in Bucky’s arms. 

“Convince Coulson to let me on the team and you won’t have to miss me at all,” he responds, like he always does. It’s meaningless and they both know it. It’s been nearly a year since the mess with Hydra but even now very few of Steve’s teammates trust him. Sam does and he thinks Natasha is coming around but the rest have been harder sells. It’s frustrating because he wants to be out there, watching Steve’s back in the field. Now Steve smiles tiredly at him, lovely in his nakedness, true regret at the edges of his lips. 

“We’ll get there, Buck,” is all he says as he lets Bucky steer him into the tub where he sinks into the warm water. Steve lets out a long, tired sigh as he sits back, arms resting on the edges of the tub. Slowly, he relaxes, head tipped back and eyes closed. Bucky sits on the floor next to the tub after turning off the taps and watches Steve’s face, the feeling in his chest light and full. 

“You’re still badgering them about me joining the team, aren’t you?” he asks mildly, draping his metal over the edge of the tub so he can drag his fingers through the water. Steve lifts one eyelid to look at him for a moment before letting it fall closed again. 

“You would be a valuable member of the team and they all know it. Even Tony admitted it,” which is a surprise. Stark has been less than enthusiastic about Bucky being anywhere but a jail cell and Bucky can’t really blame him. Of all the kills he made for Hydra, Howard and Maria Stark haunts him the most. At least, after the little girl in Greece and the triplets in Montreal. But those he doesn’t let himself think about.

“They have to be able to trust everyone on their team, though, Steve, and I don’t think Stark will ever trust me,” it’s a tired argument that isn’t really an argument at all, rehashed in dozens of different ways over the past year. So he cuts it short by leaning over the tub and sliding his hand down Steve’s thigh. It earns him a small smile and slivers of both blue eyes as Steve lifts his head enough to peer up at him. 

“I’m a little too tried for that now, Buck,” he says apologetically, though he sighs when Bucky traces the crease of his thigh to his hip. Indeed he’s still soft when Bucky’s fingers trace along his length, pulling aside his foreskin to rub gently at the head. Bucky shifts to his knees to get a better angle so he can kiss Steve’s exposed neck while he curls his fingers under the water and gives a purposeful stroke of his hand. 

“You don’t have to do a thing,” he murmurs, making sure to drag his stubble against the spot behind Steve’s ear just the way he likes it, “let me take care of you,” and Steve sighs again, opening his legs as much as he can in the tub to give Bucky room. He kisses all the skin he can reach with his mouth as he strokes Steve into hardness which, despite his protest, doesn’t take very long at all. And if he fixates on Steve’s lips as he gives a twist to his hand with every upstroke that makes Steve’s breath catch, well, it’s only the two of them here. And Steve does have very pretty lips. 

So he kisses and licks at the inviting corners of them, sucks on his bottom lip, traces his tongue along the shape of the top. Steve tries to kiss back, moaning into Bucky’s mouth but he is very tired and finally drops his head back, mouth open and eyes closed. He’s fully hard now, cock arching under the water towards his belly, his balls drawn up tight. It’s a beautiful sight to behold and Bucky drinks it in as Steve twists a little into each stroke, hands gripping the edge of the bath until his knuckles turn white. 

It drives Bucky wild because it looks like it feels so good. 

He loves making Steve feel good.

Steve’s cry is soft and a little surprised as he comes, his whole body shaking for a long moment before he relaxes all at once, limp with it. 

Bucky has to take a couple deep breaths to steady himself because he feels like his going to burn up. No matter how many times he’s seen it, Steve is hot as hell when he is in the throes of an orgasm. Heart beating hard in his throat and his own cock pressing up into the front of his sweats, Bucky watches Steve come down from it, lips shiny and red as he recovers his breath. 

“Christ, Bucky,” he finally breathes, rolling his head to the side so he can look at Bucky without lifting it. Bucky grins. 

“That good, huh?” he teases, leaning up to press a quick kiss to Steve’s waiting mouth. It turns out to not be so quick when Steve curls a hand into Bucky’s hair to hold him in place, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue. Steve’s need for deep, slow kisses after an orgasm is surely going to be Bucky’s death one day. Arousal burns hot in his belly and he lifts his free hand out of the water to press against his aching prick. 

“Want me to…” Steve starts to ask, hand trailing down Bucky’s spine but he pulls back, not letting himself be drawn in. They could be at it all night at this rate and Steve needs sleep. 

“Nah,” Bucky says softly, leaving one last kiss on Steve’s pretty lips before pulling away, “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” Steve nods slowly and he takes Bucky’s breath away. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this, flushed from the tip of his ears all the way down, disappearing under the water, lips plush, eyes heavy and dark. Bucky wants to fuck him so badly he can feel the ache of want pulsing at the base of his cock. But he just pulls away and reaches for the soap and a rag. 

He drains the tub of the grimy water and refills it, watching Steve sink lower as new hot water rushes out of the tap. Once it’s full, Bucky turns off the tap and soaps up the rag until the suds start climbing up his wrist. With grim purpose, Bucky soaps Steve down, making him sit up to get his back and touching him with gentle but efficient hands. Steve still moans softly when he runs the rag over his inner thighs and soft cock, shifting restlessly at the sensitivity. The sound goes right to Bucky’s dick and it’s all he can do not to take Steve up on his offer. 

Somehow, he gets Steve’s skin and hair washed and rinsed and, with much coaxing, gets Steve out of the tub so he can rub him down briskly with the towel. Steve looks like he’s half asleep even standing but as Bucky bends to dry down his calves and feet, Steve makes a soft, curious noise. 

“What are those?” he asks and for a moment, Bucky has no idea what he’s talking about. But when he stands, he realizes Steve has spotted the lipstick tubes on the counter and his mouth goes dry. He watches silently as Steve reaches over and picks one up, small lines appearing between his eyebrows. Bucky’s heart beats wildly in his chest as Steve opens the round tube and twists the bottom so the bright red stick of pigment is visible. 

“Are these for you?” Steve finally asks, voice curiously blank. There’s no judgement in his gaze though, so Bucky struggles to meet and hold it. His voice sounds like he’s swallowed sand when he answers. 

“No, I bought them for you,” for a moment, Steve’s eyebrows knit in confusion and he opens his mouth to ask Bucky what he means. But then his eyes run down Bucky’s body, seeing the renewed tenting in the front of his sweatpants and quickly draws the right conclusion. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes wide, “Oh,” he looks down at the lipstick in his hand and promptly turns bright pink, as if he’s trying to match the color in the tube. It’s stupidly cute when he blushes like that, it really is, “You really…want me to wear this?” he finally asks because the silence has gotten too heavy and Bucky isn’t ready to say anything. 

“Yes, I want you wear it,” he responds and he knows what he sounds like, half out of his mind with arousal, “I want you to kiss me with it on your pretty lips, Steve. I want you to wear it when you wrap your mouth around my cock and I want to see you wearing it while you fuck me,” he clenches his teeth before he can say anything else but he shouldn’t have worried. Steve’s eyes are huge and his flush is deepening, traveling back down his chest again. His hands shake a little when he puts the cap back on the tube and replaces it neatly on the counter with the other two. 

“Sounds like you’ve thought about it,” he says carefully and Bucky shrugs. 

“Always thought you had a pretty mouth when you weren’t cussing someone out,” and Steve laughs a little, dragging his hand down his face. He sighs, leaning heavily against the counter. He’s still naked, a drop of water rolling down his belly into his pubic hair but before Bucky’s brain can get off track, Steve drops his hand and looks at him. 

“I want it, if you do,” he says, “but I don’t think I’ll be much good tonight. Raincheck?” his face is hopeful and Bucky’s heart skips a beat. 

“Yeah, Stevie, of course not tonight,” he catches Steve’s hand and drags him into the bedroom, getting him to step into a pair of briefs before shoving him onto the bed. When he goes to step away, though, back to the bathroom to clean up and relieve the throb of arousal because fuck he is as hard as steel, Steve catches his arm, making him pause. 

“Stay here, Buck,” he says, all soft around the edges, golden and lovely and Bucky can’t say no. So he slides in next to Steve and pulls the covers around them, falling back into the warmth of Steve’s embrace.

He can wait. The ache of arousal slowly dissipates and Bucky falls asleep with his nose pressed into Steve’s damp hair and his arm slung over Steve’s chest. 

**

Steve always sleeps for a long time after difficult missions like the last one and when he finally wakes, he is usually ravenous. Bucky is awake not long after dawn and watches the shadows play across Steve’s face for a while before getting up. This too is something of a routine. Get up, haunt the corners and halls of the apartment before Steve gets up for his morning run with Sam. Sometimes he makes breakfast for when he gets back and sometimes he waits for Steve to come home so they can go out. He is still amazed, sometimes, that he can make these choices. That he has complete autonomy over his own life. 

Today, after the sun has risen and casts golden beams of light upon the hardwood floor, he slides out of bed with a purpose. He cleans up the bathroom from the night before, emptying the tub and throwing the abandoned towel into the hamper. Then he cleans himself up, showers, brushes his teeth, his hair, puts on clean clothes, and pads silently into the kitchen. By the time he has most of the pancakes made and is starting on the french toast, it is nearing eleven o’clock and he can hear Steve moving around down the hall. Hears him get up and go to the bathroom. Hears him rummaging through the dresser for clothes. Hears him trundle down the the hallway towards the kitchen. 

Bucky bites back a smile when he sees him. 

Steve’s hair is sticking up every which way and his blue eyes are still still dark and sleepy. 

“Morning,” Bucky says as he puts a plate full of pancakes and french toast at the place he set for Steve on the table. Steve looks at him and pulls something out of the pocket of his jeans, placing them on the table as he sits. Bucky stares at the three tube of lipstick uncomprehendingly for a moment. When he meets Steve’s eyes, he finds they are pale and piercing and locked steadily on Bucky’s face. 

“Steve,” he starts, bewildered. But Steve cuts him off as he picks up his fork with a shake of his head.

“Food first. I’m practically hollow,” he takes a huge bite of french toast but his eyes never really leave Bucky’s face. They are as intense as he’s ever seen Steve get and he has to turn away or he’s sure he’ll spontaneously combust if he doesn’t. He makes up his own plate and carries that and the bottle of syrup to the table, sitting across from Steve like he always does. But his eyes are dragged to the plastic tubes sitting next to Steve’s plate again and again. To the lipstick, to the way Steve’s gaze remains steady and sharp, to the way he licks a drop of syrup from his bottom lip. 

Bucky eats slowly, completely distracted and heart beating high and fast in his chest. He just watches Steve pack away his breakfast (and seconds and thirds), only finishing half of his own plate by the time Steve sits back with a satisfied sigh and licks some syrup off his thumb. 

Mouth dry, Bucky swallows thickly and puts his fork down with exaggerated deliberateness. 

Steve holds his gaze as he swirls a finger through the puddle of left over syrup on his plate and reaches across the table to smear it along Bucky’s top lip. Even though he saw it coming, the touch sends a jolt through him and he moans when the sweetness seeps into his mouth. Without thought, he sucks Steve’s finger into his mouth before he can pull away, curling his tongue over the tip and licking away any lingering sweetness. Steve watches, his whole body tense and his eyes nearly black. With his hair still mussed from sleep and a lovely flush beginning to stain his cheekbones, Bucky wants to tackle him to the floor and lick him all over. Instead he just presses a lingering kiss to Steve’s palm and looks at him from under his lashes, enjoying the way Steve’s flush deepens a little.

“Pick one,” Steve says softly when he takes his hand back, nudging the lipstick tubes in Bucky’s direction and he is incredibly glad he’s sitting or his knees might have given out. With a sharp breath, he reaches out and picks up each one, opens it and stands it up so he can see them all. They are all bright, vibrant colors and he shuffles in his seat for a moment with indecision. 

He likes all of them. The reason he bought all three is because he couldn’t choose between them. The one in the middle is impossibly red, the kind of red that makes people stop and look. Something he remembers a woman with brown hair and piercing eyes wearing. The second is almost maroon, a little pink and cool that he decides after a moment of looking would probably look better against his own skin than Steve’s. The last, though, is a deep, rich red that reminds him of velvet and long, searing kisses and he picks it up with a slightly unsteady hand. Steve’s eyebrows go up but he caps the other two and takes the one Bucky picked without hesitation. Fuck, he feels like a kid again, excited and nervous and so turned on before anything’s really happened he’ll probably pop off much too soon. 

And he doesn’t give a fuck because Steve is going to put that velvety red color on his lips and Bucky thinks it’s probably going to kill him. 

“Come on,” Steve says, pushing back from the table and offering Bucky his hand. In a daze, Bucky takes it and allows himself to be led into the bedroom where he stands next to the bed staring helplessly at Steve and the tube of lipstick in his hand, “You wanna put it on me or do you want me to do it?” he asks, all pragmatism which makes Bucky feel kind of foolish for being so turned around about this. With an effort, he pulls himself together and croaks,

“I wanna watch you do it,” and catches the way Steve’s jaw ticks like it does when he’s trying to hide how much he’s turned on. Goodness and it should be ridiculous, a huge guy like Steve in his t-shirt and jeans with lipstick on but it’s not. It’s so not. 

Steve steps over to the mirror that hangs on the inside of the bedroom door and twists the tube of lipstick so it rises up a little. It’s so red, Bucky thinks wildly, and holds his breath as Steve brings it up to his bottom lip. His blue eyes hold Bucky’s in the mirror for a moment, making sure he’s watching, before he slowly runs the lipstick along the plump curve of his mouth. The stick of waxy pigment drags along his lip, making it give and it’s more perfect than anything his imagination could supply. Steve repeats it with his top lip, following the bow of it expertly, like he’s done this hundreds of times, then he rubs his lips together to even out the color. 

When he turns to show his handiwork, Bucky feels like the floor has been jerked out from under him. 

“Steve,” he breathes, completely undone, and Steve smiles. His lips curl up at the corners and his teeth gleam white against the deep pigment and it’s insane, “Fuck, Steve, wow,” he sounds stupid but he can’t stop staring at the way the color looks on Steve’s mouth. It’s not…it doesn’t change anything. But it’s just so pretty and he’s wanted to see it for so long that he’s afraid his brain might short out. Steve walks closer, smile turning a little wicked. 

“Like it?” Steve asks and Bucky can’t help it, he has to reach out and run his fingers along the dip above Steve’s top lip, follow the curve of skin under the bottom one. Then he traces along Steve’s lips, touch light enough it’s barely there. It’s incredible, how the color outlines the beautiful shape of his mouth, how it makes the light freckles on his nose stand out, how it makes his eyes seem so much brighter. 

“Yeah, its…you look incredible. I wanna…” Bucky trails off, biting his own lip, the want in him screaming for a half a dozen things all at once. Steve is no longer smiling, reaching out to cup one hand around the back of Bucky’s head, holding him steady. He looms close, smelling of warm pillows and skin and the wax of the lipstick and, fuck does Bucky want those lips all over him. Wants to see the smudges left behind, wants the taste of it in his mouth. He sways closer, his thumb still tracing over Steve’s lower lip. 

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve murmurs, voice a low rumble, rough in that way he has when they are like this. Bucky leans up and nips at his chin, winding both of his own hands into Steve’s already messy hair. 

“Kiss me. Please, please, you gotta—” Bucky cuts off with a moan because Steve’s mouth is on his, so full, so wonderful. He doesn’t know why he thought the lipstick would make it different because it doesn’t. The taste is a little strange, a little familiar, but it’s still the same in every other respect. Still amazing as it always is. Deep and consuming and leaving him both breathless and aching for more. For all that, he’s desperately hard with the knowledge that Steve is kissing him like that while wearing the loveliest shade of red on his lips. 

“What else, Bucky?” Steve coaxes when they break apart, one hand in Bucky’s hair and the other gripping his hip hard. His lipstick has barely smudged despite their enthusiastic kisses, though he is eyeing Bucky’s lips like some has been transferred. Bucky shivers and licks his own lips, tasting lipstick and syrup and Steve. It’s an intoxicating combination, “What else do you want?” and there really is only one answer to that question. 

“I want that gorgeous mouth on my cock,” Bucky answers firmly and feels how it affects Steve, how his dick, hard against Bucky’s hip, jerks and thickens further. How he shivers and bites his lip, teeth a glaring contrast against the deep color of the lipstick and Bucky has to rub against him, needs the pressure and the friction and the knowledge that this is affecting Steve just as much. 

Then he’s being pushed back until the back of his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to sit. 

Christ, this is really happening. Steve is really going to his knees, lips painted red and looking like they were made to suck cock, eyes nearly black they are so dark. Hand shaking, Bucky touches the luscious curve of Steve’s bottom lip and whispers, 

“You’re fucking gorgeous like this,” then feels stupid for saying it even though he’s never meant anything more in his entire life. But Steve just coyly looks up at him through his long, dark eyelashes and works Bucky’s sweatpants down his hips. He’s strung tight and his cock is already damp when it’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. And Steve is right there, one hand steadying him at the base, the other pushing Bucky’s legs open so he can settle between them. 

And his lips. 

Oh, his lips, they part so Steve can lick him root to tip and it’s all Bucky can do not to shout at the wetness and the heat and the red everywhere. 

He doesn’t last very long at all. Under any other circumstances, he thinks he would be embarrassed. But the deep red of the lipstick against Steve’s pink tongue and the hectic flush of Bucky’s aching cock is the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. He’s at the tipping point in no time, hands fisted in the bedspread, the rest of the world falling away. Everything is just Steve’s red lips sliding down his cock, surrounding him in searing heat, wet, Christ. All the while he can’t look away from the way Steve’s obscenely red lips stretch around him, taking him down again and again. 

“Steve, fuck, I’m…” he warns, the pleasure in him expanding, like a rising tidal wave. His pulse pounds in his ears and his fingers scrabble at Steve’s back. But Steve keeps on, sucking him all the way down and swallowing around him and the world disappears in rush of bliss. 

It feels like it lasts forever and he comes down slowly, shaking in the aftermath. 

Finally, when the world begins to restructure itself around him again, he cracks his eyes open and finds himself staring at the ceiling. Apparently he’d fallen back while caught up in the clutches of his orgasm. Steve is still between his thighs when he lifts his head look down his body, trapped there by Bucky’s legs that he’d wound around Steve’s broad shoulders. There’s still lipstick smudged on his lips, beautiful and red and when Bucky sees some has been left behind around his softening cock, he groans and falls back again. Steve rumbles a laugh, big hands sliding under Bucky’s splayed thighs, making him shiver. 

“That was incredible,” Steve says, voice rough. Bucky loves the sound of it, loves that Steve is so affected and he drops his legs so he can haul Steve up over him, immediately going for a sloppy kiss. It tastes like come now, most of the lipstick worn off and he chases every last bit of it from the corners of Steve’s mouth. It makes him crazy when he can taste himself on Steve’s tongue. When they part, he’s breathing hard again and his cock is making a valiant attempt at plumping back up. 

“Clothes off,” he breathes, then sighs and tips his head back when Steve bites down his neck and sucks on a spot that makes his toes curl. Runs his hands over Steve’s back, scratches him with the nails of his right hand hard enough that Steve’s hips grind down into the comforter and he makes a broken sound against Bucky’s skin. 

Their clothes come off at record speed, seams creaking as they yank at them. In the bright mid-morning light spilling into the room through the windows, Steve’s bared skin is flushed and golden. Bucky has to touch him everywhere he can reach, kiss his shoulders and neck and chest as his hands slide down the curve of his back and trace the perfect shape of his ass. Between them Steve is as hard as steel, dripping onto Bucky’s thighs and belly. 

“What happened to me fucking you,” Steve murmurs into his hair, gasping when Bucky bites and sucks on one his nipples. Then he slides back up the bed and kisses Steve deep, the way he likes it, just to hear Steve moan brokenly into his mouth. When he pulls back, Steve looks like he’s barely holding back. He is flushed all the way down to his belly button and his arms shake a little as he holds himself over Bucky, his eyes nearly black and his lips beautifully plump and still a little red. From both the lipstick and sucking Bucky off. 

He pushes Steve back onto his heels and hunts around for the lipstick, which he finds hiding next to his hip. When he holds it out, Steve’s eyes go even darker. 

Without a word, Steve sits back on his heels, hard cock curving up towards his belly, and takes the tube from Bucky’s hand. He stares challengingly at Bucky the whole time he runs the stick of pigment over his lips and that just gets Bucky going again. The challenge contrasting with the softening color, it’s so scorchingly hot he’s half-way hard again in seconds. 

“Fuck, Stevie,” he murmurs when Steve twists the lipstick so it won’t get ruined and tosses it to the other side of the bed. Then Steve is crawling over his body, lips velvety red and muscles coiling under his skin as he moves. It makes him look dangerous, like some wild creature sliding between Bucky’s thighs. Given the look in his eyes and the heat in his touch as he drags his fingers over Bucky’s hips and through the hair at the base of his cock, it’s going to be a hell of a ride. He hovers his lips over Bucky’s barely a hair’s breath away, but holds Bucky back when he tries to lean up for a kiss. 

The sound he makes is broken and needy and he grasps at any part of Steve he can reach, wanting so much he aches. 

“I want you to watch me when I fuck you, Buck,” Steve breathes, intense, with those red, red lips and Bucky is going to lose his mind. This is it. This is how he dies. With Steve looking down at him like that, like he wants to devour Bucky, wants to take him apart until there is nothing left. It makes his eyes flutter but Steve’s hand is there, clutching his chin and forcing Bucky to look. He thinks he makes a sound like a sob but he doesn’t even know anymore. 

“Yeah, Stevie,” he grits out, legs wrapped around Steve’s slim hips, “Fuck me good, yeah?” and Steve’s drops his head for a moment with a gasping laugh, holding Bucky’s hips in place when he would rut up against Steve’s thigh. 

“Won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he promises, lips still taunting Bucky by being just out of reach. 

Steve makes good on his promise. There’s slick on his fingers from the bottle kept in the table by the bed, fingers moving inside of Bucky, blunt but and a little rough. Steve finally relents when he’s worked two fingers inside of Bucky and kisses him as he rubs the place that makes sparks shoot through Bucky’s body. He moans and twists, cock leaking and making a mess. Between the slide of their lips and the burning pleasure, he only remembers to keep his eyes open when Steve bites his bottom lip in warning. 

“Eyes on me,” Steve whispers, pulls his fingers free and then his cock is there, wet and huge and hard, sliding into Bucky with one long, slow thrust. 

They gasp into each other’s mouths for a moment as they adjust and then Steve is moving, insistent and steady. Like he does everything else. It makes Bucky’s body light up and he wraps his legs around Steve’s slim waist, holding on for dear life. And then he looks at Steve’s face, really looks at it, and finds himself utterly lost. 

So this is why Steve said to keep watching him. 

His painted lips are parted and his eyes are closed, eyebrows knitted with concentration. With every other thrust, he makes a small sound at the back of his throat like he can’t help it, like it just feels so good the sound is completely unconscious. And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing. 

“Jesus, Jesus fuck,” Bucky curses as Steve adjusts and rolls over his prostate with almost every press in. Between that and staring at the dark red lipstick on Steve’s lips, a little smudged, a lot perfect, he’s at the edge faster than he’d like. 

But neither of them last for any length of time. Not today. It takes what feels like no time at all before Steve’s face goes tight and his eyes are glazed when they open to look down at Bucky.

That’s really all it takes. 

Bucky thinks he shouts when he comes this time, thinks Steve might too but all he really knows is the rush, sharper this time than the first. It doesn’t last as long but it rattles him right down to his bones so that he lays uselessly on the bed for a long time, breathing harsh and shaking in the aftermath. 

Stunned, they lay tangled together until their breathing evens out and the worst of the shaking subsides. 

“You kept your promise, I think,” Bucky rasps finally, rising a hand so he can brush his fingers through Steve’s damp hair. He’s laying where he fell, half on top of Bucky, face buried in Bucky’e neck and has to turn his head to answer. 

“What’s that?” he asks, words a little slurred and Bucky grins at the ceiling. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not walking anywhere for a while,” and revels in the way Steve’s belly jumps against his own when he laughs. Slowly, he unwinds his legs from around Steve’s waist and they both grunt when Steve pulls free. They’ve made a spectacular mess and Bucky loves it. Loves the creaking in his muscles, loves the continued buzz in his limbs from the rush of endorphins that will probably last a while. But mostly he loves Steve’s heavy weight on top of him, damp with sweat and probably feeling just as good as Bucky does. Finally Steve sighs and shifts to a more comfortable position, one leg draped over Bucky and head on the bed so they can look at each other. 

The lipstick is still there, pretty much intact save for the smudge at the corner of his mouth. 

“Damn, that stuff really stays on,” he remarks, touching Steve’s plump bottom lip. It’s really a remarkable color, he thinks now that his mind isn’t muddled with arousal. It looks amazing on Steve, like it was made for him, dark and red and almost startling. He wants to see it on Steve all the time. Steve nips lazily at his finger and then leans in to kiss him properly, slow and sweet. They are both smiling when he pulls away. 

Then Steve eyes him speculatively, gaze lingering on Bucky’s mouth, hungry and calculating. 

“It’s your turn to wear it next time,” he says thoughtfully, “Definitely the bright red one,” Bucky raises his eyebrows and pretends to think about it. 

“I don’t know, Stevie,” he returns, pretending to drag it out and ignoring the way the line that appears between Steve’s eyebrows isn’t cute as fuck, “I think I would look incredible in the pink one,” and Steve’s smile is brilliant with his lips so very red and his eyes so very blue, “Actually, I think the one you’re wearing would look better on me,” he doesn’t mean it. He doubts anyone would look better in that color than Steve. But when Steve says,

“Oh yeah?” with a lift of his eyebrow, Bucky reaches around, hand hunting over the wrinkled comforter until he finds the lipstick tube. Steve watches him sharply when Bucky opens it and runs it over his mouth, making a show of it. He is gratified when Steve’s prick jerks against his leg and his blue eyes go dark again. 

“Bet I look even better than…,” he starts only for Steve to growl at him and shove him down, devouring in his kiss. Pleased, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s back and lets himself be consumed. 

**

They try the other two colors later on that same week and decide that the bright red is definitely Steve’s color and the pink is more suited for Bucky. The dark red, though, they use most, sharing it between them like kisses. 

When Bucky dreams now, the red he dreams of is not blood and violence. It is Steve and warmth and home. 

/end

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! Also, if you're so inclined, please come follow me on [tumblr](http://lament-for-nimrodel.tumblr.com)!


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